


Fields of Dreams

by hamstercheese7



Category: One Piece
Genre: Family, Family Drama, Family Reunions, Fatherhood, Found Family, Gen, Long Lost Relatives, One Shot, Original Character-centric, Reuniting, Second Chances, learning to let go, no ships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:42:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25171081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamstercheese7/pseuds/hamstercheese7
Summary: "The Thousand Sunny was an odd ship, it didn’t scream death and destruction. It didn’t scream bloodshed and rage. And maybe that was why it unnerved him so."What if Nami didn't lose both her parents during the siege of Oykot Kingdom?This is an OC one-shot. NO PAIRINGS.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 74





	Fields of Dreams

They say you can find everything on Sabaody if you try hard enough. The last stop before The New World, close to Mariejois, to Marineford. Nearly every ship from every sea stopped here, and the residents reflected that. People from every sea, from all walks of life.

And still they couldn’t get East Blue coffee right. Anders sighed, sweeping his orange hair out of his eyes and tucking it back behind his ear. The marketplace was busy, people out and about, shopping for clothing, spices, food, and whatever manner of things. 

He took another sip. Nope, still wrong. He grimaced and leaned back in his chair, the sun beating down on the top of his head. He had hours yet to kill before his ship was to head back to Marineford, and while the rest of his crew was excited about stopping at Sabaody, he wasn’t. He’d been here a thousand times on what felt like a thousand ships. 

But that was the life of a Marine, and places lost their luster after a while. Maybe that was why so many returned home on shore leave instead of going elsewhere. Home. Anders glanced down at the mug on the table, the dark liquid reflecting the view across the street. Maybe it wasn’t that the coffee tasted wrong, but that he just hyped it up in his mind, made the flavor he was chasing forever unattainable. 

His eyebrows drew downwards. 

And then it happened. As he stared at the reflection of the world in the coffee cup, she walked by. And he froze, his brown eyes widening.

_ It couldn’t be.  _

Slowly, he looked up from the reflection, to the edge of the table, across the paved sidewalk, the grass, the street with its worn footpaths, to the clothing shop on the other side, and up the rack with women’s clothes on sale. 

Short orange hair. Brown eyes. And his wife’s face. He stared, his breath coming shallowly. But it was impossible. His wife was gone, taken from him 17 years prior. But there she was, right across the street, looking just like she had when he asked her to marry him. A few bubbles formed on the ground near her feet, gently floating up into the air, reflecting her face as they journeyed up and away. 

She was smiling and chatting with another woman as she looked through the clothing, pulling out a jacket and looking it over before putting it back. 

He stared, utterly transfixed.

A shadow fell across his table. “Commodore.” 

The girl had turned her back to him slightly, tucking a strand of orange hair behind her ear. A shade so similar to his own. 

“Commodore? Sir?”

She couldn’t have been older than 18 or 19. Sweat broke out across his brow.

“Sir? Commodore Torell!” that snagged Anders’ attention and he ripped his eyes away from the girl and into the face of one of his men. He blinked a few times, “W-what?” he stammered. The soldier raised an eyebrow at him before beginning to tell him that they had just received word from HQ and that they were requesting him to return immediately. Anders blinked slowly, the words registering. 

He nodded at the messenger, and told him to return to the ship, that he’d be there shortly. The man saluted and left, Anders already forgetting him as he turned back to look across the street once more. But the girl was gone. He blinked, eyes sweeping the street. Nothing. 

His eyes landed on his coffee cup again and he reached out a trembling hand, bringing it to his lips, and for a moment, just a moment, it tasted right.

\---

It was a calm summer night, the stars shining brightly overhead, thousands and thousands of them. He traced the constellations, jumping from Draco to Cygnus to Hercules. He knew them all by heart. The sound of the back door opening behind him made Anders turn around. His father, orange hair short with just a hint of gray at the temples approached, holding a candle. He sat down next to him on the porch, putting the candle down between them. Anders returned to looking at the sky, “How was the store today, dad?” he asked. 

“Long, didn’t sell as much barley as we need...didn’t sell enough bushels of oats either,” he grumbled under his breath. Anders turned to look at him. “I’ll come in tomorrow, I’m sure I can-” His father cut him off quickly. “No. No. I’ll have your brothers come in,” he grunted. Anders frowned. “They have school, they-” he began when his father cut him off again. “What good’s that doing them? The only one school has been good for, is you, boy.” Anders stared at him, the corners of his mouth tightening. His father sighed, and rubbed a hand down his face. 

“They don’t have the experience I do, Dad, I’m the better choi-”    
“No, you aren’t,” he was cut off for the third time. Anger flushed up his neck, warm and unwelcome. He knew the fields, the store, the townsfolk and the upsale like the back of his hand. He was the oldest, his younger brothers and sisters followed his lead. “What is that supposed to mean?!” he growled. His father stared out at the field behind their modest home, out at the wheat and the barley, the oats, and the cabbage, and the carrots. At the generations of effort that had built their small plot into its current state. 

“It means...that you have chance boy, and I won’t let you squander it,” he said softly. Anders looked at him, tracing the sharpness of his cheekbones, though only in his early fifties, the sun had taken its toll on his skin, wrinkles surrounding his father’s deep-set eyes and mouth. “There’s a Navy ship coming into harbor in the next few days. And I want you to be on it when it leaves,” his gravelly voice though low echoed in Anders' ears. 

“...What?” Anders breathed. “You heard me.” But the farm, and his mother, and his brothers... and Ana. Ana with a smile like the sunshine, with eyes like the ocean. Ana who whispered softly to him, and held his hand, fingers entwined under the cypress trees. Ana who had agreed to marry him.

“You’re young son, and unlike your brothers, you have a shot. Go see the world, make something of yourself! Find a dream and follow it! You don’t belong here, struggling in the dirt,” his father growled, there was a steeliness to his voice, a wistful desperation. 

But Anders had his dream, here on the farm, surrounded by the fields and his family. With Ana. 

But he loved his father, and did as he asked. 

The Marines were tough. They demanded discipline, sacrifice, and never-ending effort. But it wasn’t that much harder than working the land day after day, walking the beans early in the morning, tilling the earth again and again and again. The only thing that stuck with him was how unnerved he felt with a gun in his hands. 

Anders didn’t stay in the grunts for long. His father, as much as he hated it, had been correct. He stood out quickly, his talent for navigation flagging him for different duties early on. And Anders took to it like a fish in the sea. Understanding the sea currents, the wind, the weather, the stars and all their patterns came to him as naturally as breathing. 

He entered the Grand Line at the end of his first year, and wouldn’t return home to Ana for another six months, by then an Officer, a man who had seen the value of the Navy up close. And yet, in his heart, the fields still called to him.

He married Ana at the tender age of 19 under the cypress trees at the edge of his family’s farm. Her smile was so bright, he could still see it when he closed his eyes. His steady Navy paycheck bought them a small home close to the center of town on Oykot Island, close to the school they had attended together, where Ana now spent her days as a teacher. 

And each time Anders’ shore leave came to an end, he felt like he was leaving a larger and larger piece of himself behind. But, he told himself, if he became a Captain, then he could transfer permanently to the East Blue. He could come home.

\---

This time it would work. This time, there was no one around, this time there were no too dull knives, or malfunctioning flintlocks. It was dark, the nearest island 10 leagues away. The sea frothed and battered against the side of the battleship. Rain lashed his face, thunder beat against his eardrums. He would just be another sailor lost at sea in a storm.

Anders gripped the railing. Ana smiled softly at him. He jumped.

Seagulls screeched overhead, the taste of salt and sand filled his mouth, his eyes. He rolled over onto his side, the warm breath of the sun reaching his face. Anguish filled him. Why? WHY?! 

He screamed and screamed, fists pounding against the wet sand. 

\---

Standing on the cracked concrete of Marineford, the screams of death filling the air. Blood pounding in his ears, rage ripping through him as he chased down man after man, stabbing, parrying, punching. The jolly roger of the Whitebeards turned bloody beneath his hands. 

But it would never be enough. They dared fly a pirate flag, they dared call themselves noble! 

Fucking disgusting pirates, they deserved to burn under Admiral Akainu’s might! All of them!

\---

The makeshift briefing room of what would become New Marineford smelled like fresh concrete. The tent flaps moved slightly in the wind. Commodore Anders Torell eyed the report that had been handed to him. All the marines of Captain rank or higher were being briefed on their new, though in many cases, old, enemies after the War. The Impel Down prison break was going to wreak havoc across the world. And then there was the matter of Straw Hat Luffy. The rookie who made waves just a few days prior with his bell ringing stunt. 

Anders flipped through the wanted posters idly, rubbing a hand over his bearded chin. He needed a trim, but hadn’t had the chance in weeks. The War had left the Navy in shambles, as much as the World Government attempted to paint it as their victory. The grinning face of Mugiwara looked up at him as he flipped to the next one, Pirate Hunter Zoro’s glaring mug looking up at him. He frowned. Pirate Hunter...he was from the East Blue was he not? Same as Mugiwara. He pursed his lips, and flipped the page once more.

And stiffened.

It was her. The girl from Saboady. The girl with his wife’s face. His eyes inched up to the top of the wanted poster. Cat Burglar Nami. Could...no. It wasn’t possible. But Mugiwara was from the East Blue. But it couldn’t be. 

There was just no way.

It wasn’t possible....was it?

An hour later, he submitted a request for additional information on Cat Burglar Nami.

Two months later, he learned that she was in fact, from the East Blue.

\---

Three years after he married Ana, he had yet to make the rank of Captain. It was harder than he had hoped. He needed to get stronger, would need to take harder and more dangerous tours of duty. Would need to be away from Ana for longer periods of time. 

A thought that made his heart clench when he looked at her, when they held hands in their bed, talking about their dreams. Of children filling their home with laughter and grubby hands. His brothers were starting families now, his oldest sister was now on her second-born. He longed for his own children to run and play with their cousins. 

And so, despite his longer absences, they began to try for a baby.

\---

_ Dear Mr. Torrell, _

_ The summer is hot this year! Or at least that is what Mother Gosho says. I wasn’t here last summer so I wouldn’t know. Is it hot where you are? Is it summer where you are?? I read in a book that islands in the Grand Line have their own seasons! Is that true? I picked a flower I found in the yard yesterday and put it in the letter so you can see it. It has 19 petals, but all the other ones I have seen only have 15!  _

_ I hope you beat up lots of pirates! _

_ -Retha _

Anders swallowed as he picked up the pressed flower tucked inside the envelope, between the letter from Retha, and the letter from Mother Gosho, thanking him for his continued support of the orphanage in Loguetown. A frown crossed his face as he read the final small note scrawled at the bottom from Gosho herself. Retha, a child of the fields, had again been skipped over by potential parents in favor of another child, one better suited for running the tourist shops and mercantile businesses of Loguetown. 

He took the flower and pulled out his wallet slowly, tucking the flower inside, in the pocket next to the photograph. The photograph he couldn’t bear to gaze upon, but couldn’t bear to be parted with.

\---

The smoke was visible from miles away, fires still raging across Oykot Kingdom. Anders stared, numb, the railing keeping him on his feet. He couldn’t believe it. It couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be happening. The East Blue was the weakest of the seas, the most peaceful. 

\---

But having a child didn’t come as easily as they hoped. Four years passed, miscarriage after miscarriage turning his wife’s once brillant smile brittle. Yet each time he returned, she wanted to try again. Over and over. Her letters were agony, and Anders spent more nights crying in his quarters than nights he’d spent with her. He wanted to come home. He never should have left! He should be with her, not out on the endless goddamn sea!

But then one day a letter came saying something else. A pregnancy that had made it longer than all the others. 

And Anders Torell vowed to make it to Captain, no matter what.

\---

_ Pirates streamed into the town of his birth, bursting through doors, ripping people from their beds. Gunshots rang out, children screamed, smoke filled the air. House by house, street by street, closer and closer. Ana hid in the closet, Mari in her arms, trying to keep her quiet. Closer and closer. Flames licked up buildings, blood ran in the streets. Up went the fields, up went the house of his parents, his mother still inside, up went the store, his father cut down in front of it. Closer and closer. Ana rocked Mari, pressing her lips to her forehead. His nephew’s eyes stared sightlessly towards the sky, his small body unnaturally still. Closer and closer. Up to the door. Through the kitchen. Into the bedroom. _

_ Closer. _

_ The closet door opened, a blade flashed blood red in the firelight. _

_ Ana screamed- _

Anders’ brown eyes snapped open as he bolted up in his cot, knife in his hand ready to hurt. To kill. But there was no one. Just the rocking of the new ship he’d been assigned to. The sound of seagulls outside in the early morning light. Another goddamned day. Heart slowing, he reached under his pillow, sliding the knife back in place, but pulling his other secret out. The wanted poster. Her brown eyes stared at him, hauntingly familiar. 

A few minutes passed and he slipped it back beneath his pillow.

He needed to know. To confirm it for himself. And he would. Soon. That was why he was here, why he had transferred to the G-5. Because if there was even a chance, he would have to take it.

\---

She was born on July 3rd, eight pounds, 12 ounces. She had all ten fingers and all ten toes. A tuft of orange hair on her head. They named her Mari, their miracle baby. A month and a half later, they learned that she had inherited Ana’s smile. They took their first family photo that same day, under the cypress trees at the edge of his family’s fields.

Anders was promoted to captain.

\---

The Thousand Sunny was an odd ship, it didn’t scream death and destruction. It didn’t scream bloodshed and rage. And maybe that was why it unnerved him so. Anders stood on the bridge of the G-5’s Unit 01, hands gripping the wheel tightly. They were in hot pursuit of the Straw Hat ship. He could hear Captain Tashigi bellowing at their men to take in the sails, could see Vice Admiral Smoker at the edge of the deck, keeping his eyes locked on the target. A New World storm turned the waves insane, the sky overhead dizzying swirls of black clouds. Rain pelted the ship so hard it bounced off the wooden deck. The hail would begin shortly, then the blizzard, the waves becoming small mountains in their fury. 

He didn’t care, he would not lose that goddamn ship. 

\---

“You should check out the old farm up the road, Anders,” came the quiet voice of his aunt. It was soft with age, with a lifetime of hard work and sorrow. He looked up from the letter in his hand. Retha had been passed over yet again. His Aunt Lisbeth sat by the fireplace, wrapped in blankets, darning needles in her knobby fingers. His mother’s sister, unlucky enough to have fallen in love with a man from the South Blue, like him far from home when  **It** had occurred. 

He didn’t want to, but he agreed to make her smile. 

The farmhouse was small, and needed to be rebuilt. The owners were moving to another island, too old to continue working the fields, wanting to retire to a port city. As he stepped through the back door, the elderly man behind him chattering about the soil and the well needing to be dug deeper, Anders froze.

For a moment, he was somewhere else. The sun beat down on golden fields of wheat, barley swaying in the slight breeze under the blue sky, stretching for as far as he could see. He shook, running a hand through his hair, now graying at the temples as he followed the man back inside.

\---

The storm was vicious, he’d almost never seen one like it. Almost. But he wasn’t called The Guide for nothing. He’d spent years, decades dedicating himself to understanding the ocean, the wind, the weather currents. Every storm a battle, a battle he would win again and again. He would keep the men he served with safe, the sea would take no one under his watch. They needed as many good men as possible to fight the evils in their world. 

The Straw Hats too had an excellent navigator, who led them through the swells and breaks with precision. Who predicted the sudden changes in wind direction nearly as well as he did. Who tried again and again to lose them in the rain and sleet and hail. But he wouldn’t give up. Not now. 

\---

Unfortunately, he needed to wait until a position opened up before he could transfer to the East Blue. Being a Captain also gave him longer duties that took him farther and farther from home. In Mari’s first year of life, he was only able to return home twice. 

He was in the Grand Line when he received the news from the News Coo. Oykot Kingdom Ransacked By Pirates! blared out from the front page. His hometown in utter ruins below. He didn’t remember much about the next few minutes. But the next few days were far too vivid. The ocean, endless and slow. The walls of the ferry liner he’d booked. The Red Line looming in the distance, too far then too close.

The stench of the smoke, the silence as he walked the streets. The pile of corpses in a pit, unrecognizable from bloating in the sun, and the heat of the flames.

There were no reported survivors. His father, mother, aunts and uncles, four brothers, two sisters, all his nieces and nephews once so vibrant, gone. The fields torched, the cypress trees nothing but burnt husks. 

And Ana and Mari. His hopes. His dreams. Gone up in smoke and violence. 

And he HATED.

\---

They ended up chasing the Straw Hats to an island not tracked by the logpose, which turned out to be an underworld base. The Straw Hats and the G-5 were imprisoned. And by some stroke of luck, or fate, or destiny, Anders was put in the same cell as her. 

But now that he was here, he didn’t know what to say. She bantered aggravatedly with her Captain, a strange and annoying man, who chattered at Vice Admiral Smoker like they were old friends. Anders studied her, if he was honest with himself, he was unable to take his eyes off of her. Her hair was long now, her eyes, too familiar, too much like the ones he looked at in the mirror, blazed with determination. And much to his despair, she looked more like his wife than ever before.

It came out of him suddenly, his first words to her. “Where are you from?” the question so odd when they were currently trying to come up with an escape plan. All eyes turned to him, her Captain’s narrowing on him. But Anders only had eyes for her. She raised an eyebrow at him, giving him a weird look. 

She opened her mouth to reply when all hell broke loose outside their cell.

She fought fiercely, the strange weapon she wielded allowing her to command the elements. It was incredible watching her work. But it filled him with something he was afraid to name. Something he hadn’t felt in years. Something warm, and tight, and terrifying. 

A few bloody hours later, they were free, and the storm had passed. It was the early hours of the morning, the Marines were escorting criminals into the brig, and taking down the names of the kidnapped men and women that said criminals had been selling into slavery. He stood on the beach, the gray waves lapping at the shore. A party was going on. The Straw Hats were unlike any pirates Anders had ever met. And there she was. He needed to know. 

So he approached her, her gaze more friendly but still wary of him. His legs felt like jelly, and his hands trembled as he sat down close to her. Years of military experience told him that her Captain’s eyes had fallen on him once again, but he didn’t give a damn. 

“Where are you from?” he asked once more. She narrowed her eyes at him, but obliged him. “East Blue,” she said simply. “Where in the East Blue?” She stared at him for a few moments, his heart pounding. He barely noticed that it was slowly going quiet around them, a few more of her crewmates now taking an interest in their interaction, his own superiors now looking at them as well. 

“Cocoyashi Village,” she said carefully, the alliance between their two crews just enough to tell him the truth. The feeling that had been growing in his chest ruptured like a knife to the lung. Coldness spread through his limbs, his throat sealed shut for a moment, despair pulling the edges of his vision black. 

It wasn’t her. It never could have been. 

Unless.

Unless. 

“Were you born there?” he whispered, the desperate ragged sound of his voice terrible to behold. She looked at him, a strange, almost frightened look in her eyes as she said after a few tense, endless seconds. “No, I was born in Oykot Kingdom,” she whispered.

Everything disappeared but her, with her brown eyes, and her orange hair. The shape of her cheekbones, the way her eyebrows sat gently, almost playfully above her eyes. The delicate shape of her nose. Ana. 

Ana.

He wasn’t sure if he was breathing as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He couldn’t feel his fingers as he opened it, slowly, painstakingly pulling out the photo carefully, reverently, tucked into the innermost pocket.

The sun rose, bouncing off the puddles and raindrops that coated the earth around them. Slowly, he pushed the photo towards her. Closer and closer. She was giving him such an odd look, the people around them now having gone absolutely silent. 

She took the photo and gazed at it. The flash of recognition in her eyes pulled a strangled sound from his throat. Her eyes slowly left the photo, up and up to meet his. The same eyes. His eyes. He wasn’t aware of the tears pouring down his cheeks as she brought her hand to her mouth, staring at him in shock. 

She didn’t stop him as he reached out to touch her face. She didn’t stop him as he pulled her to his chest. Her hand came up to grip the epaulettes of his coat as he buried his face in her shoulder and wailed. 

Mari. Nami. His miracle.

\---

They walked along the beach, the sun high over their heads. It was a good day. A few seabirds dove in and out of the waves. Her hand was in his. He told her of her mother, of her uncles, her aunts, of the fields, of the cypress trees while they walked. But he wanted to ask her a thousand questions. How she survived, how she ended up a pirate...if she would come home with him. 

But as she began to speak, anguish overtook him. Why hadn’t he searched for her?! If he had, maybe he could have spared her so much pain. He hadn’t been there. He’d missed all her birthdays, he’d missed her first words, her first steps, so many things. And she had suffered. Horribly. He hadn’t known about Arlong. Anders couldn’t bear to tell her that he hadn’t returned to East Blue in 17 years. The mere thought of crossing into that sea filling him with such pain he couldn’t breathe. But if he had! If he had only looked! If he had-

“Come home with me,” he said softly, as they sat on the beach, digging their toes into the sand. Mari went still and slowly pulled her hand from his. She wrapped her arms around her knees and his eyes landed on the tattoo on her shoulder. Anders was afraid to stop looking at her, that if he did, she would disappear. 

“My Captain is going to be King of the Pirates,” she said, her voice sure. There was no doubt in her eyes or her heart. She turned to look at him, a gentleness in her eyes that scared him. “I want to travel the world, I want to map every island.” Dread filled him. The New World was a deadly place, 99% of pirates were murderous assholes who would tear her apart in seconds. His heart began to pound. He opened his mouth. But Mari cut him off. “You don’t know me,” she said softly. He closed his mouth. Mari, no, Nami was right. He didn’t know her. He hadn’t been there. They were strangers, torn apart by violence, and reunited by even stranger circumstances. But still, he had to try. The thought of losing her again made his palms sweat, his stomach tight.

“I would like to,” he breathed out. There was a plea in his voice. She looked at him, a gentle smile gracing her face. She took a breath. “I would like that,” she said softly. Joy lit up in his heart, warmth spreading through him. “But on my terms.” She eyed him, a sudden hardness to her gaze. “I am going with my crew. I am going to see this through, and after that…” she trailed off.

He looked at her, her long hair auburn in the sun. Memorizing her features. “I’ll be there when that day comes,” he said softly. His heart was breaking, but if the only thing he could do was let her go, then well, that…

That was what fathers were supposed to do.

Nami smiled at him, brighter than the sun, taking his hand back in hers. 

\---

The old farmhouse really did need some work. A new roof, the porch was sagging, the walls needed new paint. But that was alright. Anders had time. The sound of dashing footsteps rushing through the back door made him look up.

Retha rushed into the main room, her brown eyes wild with excitement. “Did you see the yard?! There’s so much space! We can grow so much stuff!” Anders smiled and ruffled her dark hair. She grinned up at him, the gap in her teeth from recently losing a baby tooth made him grin back. “Oh! There was a letter for you,” she said suddenly. Anders blinked. Not many people knew he was out here, having mostly retired from the services.

Retha rushed past him and towards the front of the house, then returned a few minutes later. She held it out to him. Loopy, neat writing of his name and address but no return address. He frowned slightly and opened it.

Inside was a note, wrapped around a small pouch. “Not cypress trees, but I hope you like them anyway.” 

Inside the pouch were mikan seeds. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time ever writing an OC centric story in the OP universe. I don't know if I ever will again. I love the long lost relative trope, probably because I have my own long lost relatives. 
> 
> I listened to the soundtrack for Before the Storm by Daughter while writing this.
> 
> I would love to hear your thoughts!
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and you can find me on twitter @buggyisbest


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